


two halves of an inevitable whole

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a persistent tug that's been driving Grant ever since he left those feds’ bodies cooling on the side of the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two halves of an inevitable whole

Only one person is dumb enough to try getting between Grant and what he wants. He’s in a hurry, so he only spares a moment to knock the idiot on his ass. A couple of the other rent-a-cops at the front desk catch their coworker and explain in hushed tone that he is _Grant Ward_ and to _stay the hell down_. Grant doesn’t even crack a smile.

After he makes it past the public level, there are real agents: operatives who give him the respectful nod-slash-once-over he expects from people in his own line of work, along with scientists who either recognize him or the look on his face and know to _move_.

He’s never been to this particular base - it’s newer, maybe even built after the uprising - but there’s a persistent tug that's been driving him ever since he left those feds’ bodies cooling on the side of the road. It pulls him relentlessly onward and he’s pretty deep in the building when a guard leaning casually against one of the walls clicks his tongue before Grant can pass him by. The guy tips his head to the door next to him and Grant nods his thanks.

Once inside, it takes only one brief sweep of the room to catch sight of his target and he can honestly say he doesn’t remember what comes next, he just knows he’s _there_ , chest pressed to her back, hands shaping to her hips, nose pressing into her sweet-smelling hair.

Under normal circumstances he would never do this. He knows how important her work is to her, how dangerous it can be to distract her with silly things like his need for physical contact, but these are not normal circumstances and that is only underlined when she doesn’t snip at him to wait his turn or calmly tell him she’ll “be a minute, love.” Instead, she lets out a delighted note of surprise and turns in his arms.

There’s relief and confusion and more joy than he feels worthy of, but what he takes the most comfort in is the glow coming from her wrist. He tips his head into her lifted hand, just to be that much closer to it.

He doesn’t think it’s exaggerating to say it’s been hell the last five months, going every day with no way of knowing what had become of her. The circumstances he left her in weren’t exactly ideal what with the uprising only just having taken place. And then John was dead, so he didn’t even know which head she’d be likely to end up under. Worse, there’s no timer on Grant’s wrist - an unfortunate necessity of his job - which means he had only the ghostly presence of the soul bond to let him know she was even still alive.

Standing here, now, with her in his arms, something inside of him relaxes for the first time in five months, nine days, and three hours. He’d know the minutes too, but if he let himself think about that, he’d have really gone mad down in that hole.

“Grant,” Jemma sighs, dropping her forehead to his chest. She breathes deep and he can’t help a faint chuckle. He can sniff her - she’s had what he assumes is pretty regular access to a shower - but he’s been on the road for the better part of a week trying to track her down, and he wasn‘t exactly getting regular showers before that. Doesn’t seem to bother her though. She nuzzles the bit of bare chest his shirt leaves exposed and presses a brief kiss there. “You’re _here_.”

Her hands are fisted tight in his shirt - tighter than he’s holding her, that’s for certain; she may have the light on her wrist, but he gets the idea she was just as worried as he was.

He also realizes suddenly just how exposed they are. Not that he didn’t know before, but now that he’s calming down, he can actually notice things that aren’t Jemma. And a lot of those things are scientists who are a little too interested in this reunion.

He kisses her hair and shifts his weight back to indicate it’s time to leave. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, baby.”

She smiles up at him and lifts herself on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “I certainly hope not. Have you been assigned quarters yet?” she asks, allowing him to shift her to his side so that they can walk together.

He suppresses a grin while shaking his head; he can count on one hands the number of times Jemma abandoned her science for him - and he doesn’t think she’s  _ever_ just up and walked away from it before. “Came straight here,” he says.

She beams, clearly taking that as the compliment it is. “Then I suppose you’ll have to get cleaned up in mine.” She almost sounds unhappy about that - almost.

He again nods his thanks to the guard at the door, committing the face to memory as someone he owes a favor to. “Should I be insulted?” he asks, matching Jemma’s light tone. There’s still part of him that’s raw and bloody from being away from her, but so long as he’s got his arm around her shoulders, it doesn’t seem so bad.

She wrinkles her nose. “You’ve certainly come back smelling worse,” she concedes as they step into one of the elevators at the end of the hall. Her head tips onto his shoulder and her hand splays on his chest after she’s keyed in her floor. It seems innocent enough, but then her hand slips neatly beneath the collar of his shirt to stroke his chest. The ache in his bones becomes a fire and it’s all he can do to keep from slamming her up against the doors.

She has to feel how fast his heart is beating, has to know exactly what she’s doing to him, but her smile is lazy when she says, “But you definitely need a shower.”

“Jemma,” he says in as straight a tone as he can manage. Her face lifts to meet his eyes. “We’ve been apart for five months. Five months following one of the biggest global events in human history - one in which we were both personally _very_ involved. You get that I’m not leaving your side for at least a week, right?”

She hums and lets her fingers go back to exploring the planes of his chest. “Twenty-eight,” she mutters so softly he almost misses it under the opening of the doors.

“Hm?” he asks, tightening his hold a little to let her know it’s not an idle inquiry.

She smiles sadly. “You were gone for twenty-eight weeks.”

“You kept count?” It’s only natural he did, he had nothing to do _but_ count the days, and it should probably bother him that she missed him badly enough to keep a tally herself, but he’s oddly pleased at the reminder that she thought of him as often as he did her.

He has to catch the doors to stop them closing and hurriedly shuffles them out. She turns them towards her quarters, her steps slow, easy, as though she’s content to simply be with him and doesn’t need the promised _more_ waiting in her bathroom. He knows the feeling.

“If it had reached thirty,” she says, tone falsely light, “I’d made up my mind to come for you myself.”

There’s no one on this level, not in the middle of the day, so Grant doesn’t bother waiting until they’re inside her quarters, where she doubtless has all sorts of plans meant to distract him from just this topic, to pull her to a stop. On the one hand, the mental picture of Jemma taking on SHIELD to rescue him is … really fucking hot. On the other, she’s an untrained scientist and would be far, far out of her league with an extraction.

“Jemma-” he starts.

“Don’t,” she says sharply, but there’s a hint of a plea in her voice. “Don’t tell me I don’t have the training or the experience to pull something like that off. And don’t ruin this. Please, Grant.”

He hesitates - this is definitely something they’ll need to discuss, but it’ll keep until later. He’s home now, they have plenty of time. He nods, albeit reluctantly. “Fine,” he says in a tone meant to convey the subject has been postponed, _not_ abandoned. “Now show me these quarters of yours. I gotta make sure HYDRA’s been treating my girl right.”

She cuddles into his side again, right where she belongs, and pulls him down the hall.

 


End file.
